Maybe This Time
by starry-oblivion
Summary: Non-magical AU. An elective class at Hermione's university forces her to audition for a school musical, and despite her nerves and fears, a certain redheaded stage manager helps her feel better.


"All right, who's next-… Miss Granger?"

"Not a word out of you, Percy Weasley." The way Hermione Granger growled as she all but threw her audition piece in Percy's face proved that it would be unwise for the senior to ask the young freshman what a nice girl like her was doing in a place like this. So, since Percy was indeed wise, he didn't say a word. However, since Hermione was also seething, he didn't have to.

"Can you _believe_ this nonsense?" she hissed, careful to keep her voice down so she wouldn't interrupt the girl currently auditioning on the other side of the stage door (she was either auditioning or being clubbed to death; Percy couldn't quite tell). "History of Musical Theatre is a _history_ class. Why on Earth am I being forced to audition for this tawdry piece?"

"Learning the practical application of the techniques you're studying can prove invaluable," Percy muttered in return. "At least, that's what my Fundamentals of Theatrical Management professor told me. I'm only here to fulfill my arts requirement; I take it the same could be said for you?"

"Precisely," Hermione huffed, wincing as the girl onstage made an unsuccessful try for a high note. "I asked if I could perhaps fulfill my obligation to the theatre by helping with stage management. Unfortunately, I learned that only seniors could be stage managers." At this, she glared at Percy, obviously failing to keep her jealousy in check every bit as much as he was failing to hide his gloating smile.

"Well," Percy offered, pushing his glasses up on his nose, "if you'd like, I can always see about taking on another assistant stage manager." Seeing the pleased look on her face, he smirked and added, "Provided, of course, you don't get cast."

"Oh Percy, please, I've never had a singing lesson in my life!"

Shaking his head as he wrapped a hand around the doorknob, he commented, "That doesn't seem to be stopping some people from trying out." Opening the door, he put on his best reassuring smile as the hopeful ingénue stepped out from her audition. "That was lovely! Callbacks will be posted on the backboard promptly by noon tomorrow."

Seeing the way Hermione raised an incredulous eyebrow at him as the girl walked off with a large grin on her face, Percy raised his own eyebrows innocently as he pompously said, "It would not do to crush the hopes of an aspiring star."

Deciding that it would likely be rude to laugh, Hermione merely shook her head as she followed Percy onto the stage. There, stepping into the inky blackness of a theatre lit by a single ghost light on the stage and what appeared to be the glow of a laptop somewhere in the back of the house, she suddenly remembered she had other things to worry about than how badly some anonymous girl had embarrassed herself in front of the director and stage management team. She had to worry about how badly _she_ was going to embarrass herself in front of the director and stage management team.

"I can't do this," she whispered, though by then Percy was already walking off the stage, headed to the back of the house to hand off her audition materials. Her throat was dry as she heard his voice primly announce that they were about to hear freshman Hermione Granger sing "Maybe This Time," as though she was just another girl giving just another audition. And really, that was all she was. Percy wasn't her friend; he was simply the brother of her best friend, and happened to attend the college she'd selected. Ron wasn't here, though, and so there was no reason for Percy to even remember that they had any kind of association outside of having met at orientation a few months before.

She forced herself to breathe, to clear her throat, to smile as there was silence from the back and she assumed her audition card was being read. They would see that she had no experience in musical theatre at all, but she could play piano, and she was quite good at memorization. Other than that, she wasn't even a theatre major, so Hermione was banking on the renowned favoritism within the theatrical circle to keep her out of the production in a performing capacity; she certainly didn't want to waste her nights at rehearsals as some… some _chorus girl_, especially not for _this_ play. She'd seen the costume designs, and she was fairly certain Ron's head might explode if he knew she was even being _measured_ for something like that.

"All right, Miss Granger," came a voice that was simply jammed with false enthusiasm, which she recognized as that of the Head of the Theatre and Dance Department. Oh _hell_, she hadn't known that Professor Lockhart would be directing this play himself. And with the way the light was directed, she couldn't see into the house at all, so his disembodied voice just set her more ill at ease. "Let's hear your monologue, and then you can cue the pianist when you're ready. We'll stop you if we need to make adjustments."

Pretending that she was simply giving an oral exam, she smiled, nodded, and began reciting a monologue from _The Importance of Being Earnest_. Her roommate had argued that it was hardly fitting the time period of the play she was trying out for, but Wilde was familiar to her, and she was oddly comfortable reciting those lines that she'd read over and over again. (_"You have admired me? Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact. And I often wish that in public, at any rate, you had been more demonstrative_ .") She caught a chuckle from the back of the house, and judging by the sincerity of it, she liked to believe that it was Percy; Professor Lockhart was so rarely sincere about anything.

When she was finished with her piece, she waited for a moment to see if she'd be given any sort of adjustments, and when she wasn't she looked to the pianist seated stage right. He raised his eyebrows, looking as though he was startled to find that it was already his turn to conduct a particularly horrid task, and began to play. When her attention returned to the front of the stage, she saw Percy climbing back up towards the stage, heading for the door that would lead him to the green room, where he'd pick the next person on the audition list. Clearly, while he didn't mind staying for the monologues, he was more than happy to leave as soon as the warbling began.

Though she knew that he had a job to do as stage manager, she forgot about smiling as that thought made her frown at him. She certainly wouldn't be standing on the stage if her voice was all _that_ bad – unlike most of these girls, she had a shred of dignity – so she hoped to let him hear that she could at least carry a tune before he strode out of earshot.

"Maybe this time, I'll be lucky. Maybe this time he'll stay…."

Her voice came out low, but hopeful, mimicking the way she'd seen Liza Minelli do it in that horrible movie. Seeing Percy stop and turn to look at her, a flush suffused her face and she once again faced front, panicking for a split-second when the words eluded her before she found them again. "Maybe this time, for the first time, love won't hurry away."

For a long moment, she forgot about acting altogether. Frozen to the spot, she could feel Percy's eyes on her, and she couldn't relax until she fancied she heard the stage door softly closing, signaling that he was gone. It was one thing for the faceless director and two assistant stage managers to watch her humiliate herself, but it was something else entirely knowing that Percy was watching her make a fool of herself too.

The end of the song required a substantial bit more feeling than she was entirely comfortable with, but what the hell? That single chuckle she'd heard during her monologue was clearly a derisive one caused by her bad acting, so she might as well do what so many other girls have done while on an empty stage and butcher a perfectly lovely song.

And so she did, or imagined she did, and let her voice ring out in the theatre, reaching the crescendo as she sang about hope and love and happiness. They were three things that she never placed much stock in; there was no reason to hope for most things so long as one was properly prepared, she was much too young for love, and happiness was only a state of mind that was perfectly achievable by oneself. But Sally Bowles certainly lived her life by all three, and for the moment, Hermione _was_ Sally Bowles, even if she was certain she was doing an awful job of it.

When she was done, she smiled politely, blind to whoever was looking at her and judging her. The smile faltered slightly when a few moments of silence passed, and she glanced at the pianist, unsure of whether she should be giving him another cue or not. Since he was onstage with her, she could see his face under the ghost light quite clearly, and he looked positively stunned.

Blushing, she wondered if she'd been quite _that_ bad, when Professor Lockhart's voice called, "Very nice, Miss Granger. Check the backboard for the callbacks tomorrow afternoon. Thank you!" She noted that he sounded significantly cheerier than he had before.

Thanking them in return, she turned to leave and widened her eyes, seeing that Percy hadn't moved from his spot. His hand was on the door, and he'd cracked it open just a bit, but it didn't look as though he'd actually gone out to retrieve the next person. Seeing the look on her face seemed to snap him out of it, and he quickly hurried out of the theatre, moving for the green room. She could hear him calling the next name out before she even left the stage.

Outside, Hermione headed for the drinking fountain, needing to rehydrate herself after her singing and her nerves pretty much drained her dry. After taking her fill, she straightened up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, nearly spitting the water in her mouth out when she heard Percy's voice from right behind her. "Hermione."

Whirling around, she composed herself and clasped her hands behind her back rather sheepishly. The smile she was beginning to wear faded a little when she saw that Percy was looking at her a little strangely; there was a softer glint in his eyes, and he'd even addressed her familiarly for the first time since they'd met. "Yes, Percy?"

"That was really quite lovely."

She felt her cheeks going warm again, and she laughed uncertainly, trying to make light of it. "Oh, I'm sure. And callbacks will be posted on the backboard promptly at noon, and one must not crush the hopes of an aspiring star."

She immediately felt bad for her words when she saw how quickly Percy blushed, the tips of his ears going bright red the same way Ron's did when she teased him. The difference between them was that, while Ron would offer an embarrassed smile afterward, Percy seemed to stiffen up, a bit of his humanity fading away. Hermione hadn't even realized it was there to begin with until he seemed so mechanical without it. "Precisely," he told her staunchly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've work to do. Good night."

Though she felt as though she should apologize, Hermione said nothing as she watched him walk away.

* * *

Noon had come and gone, and Hermione didn't even think about checking the backboard.

She was busy at work. Midterms were starting up, so people were _finally_ beginning to study, which meant that her work-study hours at the library circulation desk involved lots of time teaching college students how to search for books and the proper way to cite a source on a term paper. She was helping someone with the microfilm machine and attempting to explain why sometimes the old-fashioned methods work better than simply searching for things on the internet (she wasn't doing too well on the subject, if the boy's bored looks were anything to go by) when she heard someone quietly call, "Miss Granger?"

Turning around, Hermione wasn't entirely surprised to see Percy Weasley standing there, looking in her direction, a satchel in his hands. This was, after all, the library, and he was, after all, Percy Weasley. It was all too natural a combination. The only thing that _did_ surprise her was hearing him call to her, since she would have assumed he knew his way around this library backwards and forwards.

"Percy," she murmured, excusing herself from her patron and moving towards him. "What can I do for you?"

Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Percy rested his satchel on a nearby desk, opening it and withdrawing a neat folder. "You didn't check the backboard. You have to initial besides your callback and pick up a set of sides; I wouldn't have wanted you to miss out on that."

Hermione scoffed. "Percy, if you think I'm actually going to give up a night of studying to parade around on a stage to be part of an ensemble of an absolutely _bawdy_ musical, then it's very obvious you don't know me very well."

Percy blinked at her, surprised. Seeming to draw himself up, he commented, "And if _you_ think I would come track you down at your place of work just to get you to initial an agreement to be part of an ensemble, then you obviously don't know me at all."

Not knowing what to make of his comment, Hermione looked down at the sheet of paper he offered her. Every name had an initial next to it, save for hers. When she looked at the name of the character, her eyes widened. That couldn't be right. "Sally Bowles? Isn't she… sort of the lead?"

"Only in the way Jesus is 'sort of the lead' of _Jesus Christ Superstar_," Percy remarked dryly. "Congratulations. Now, if you can just initial here to make it all official, I'll give you your sides and you'll just be back in the theatre by seven-"

"I can't do this," Hermione breathed, not for the first time. She'd said it before, to Percy's back just before the audition, and this time she was saying it right in front of him. She could tell by his bewildered expression that he couldn't quite understand what she was talking about, and so she merely repeated, "I can't do this."

"If you've a prior engagement-"

"No, it's not that I can't do this," she interrupted. "I can't _do_ this." Seeing Percy grow more and more perplexed with every second, she sighed and explained, "I don't like being on a stage, making a fool of myself. I can recite Shakespeare or perhaps do a simple piece on the piano, but I can't just… just _emote_ on a stage. I can't sing, I certainly can't dance, and just because I happened to get lucky with one audition doesn't mean that I can. It just means that I test well, but there's no telling how I'll do when the theatre is filled to capacity with a paying audience."

Percy blinked at her, not quite knowing what to say. Finally, he wryly mentioned, "Well, I know you can certainly deliver a monologue, if _that_ was anything to go by." Seeing the way Hermione flushed darkly and looked away, he took a deep breath and reached out for her arm, gently rubbing it. "It's only callbacks. There are two other girls in the running, so you may not even get the part, and it will have nothing to do with you not being able to act or sing or dance. And besides… _I _think you can act and sing. I haven't seen you dance, but last night-"

"Percy, please," Hermione broke in, "spare me the ego boost. I don't need it, and sweet as it is, I don't _want_ it. This just isn't my cup of tea in the least-"

"You _do_ need it," Percy insisted. "Because I'm telling you, you _can_ act. I've never heard Wilde's words sound more elegant than when you said them last night. And your singing… I told you it was lovely, didn't I?"

"You said that to everyone."

"But I _meant it_ with you!"

Hermione paused, dumbfounded, not sure what to say. It seemed strange, having a whispered argument with Percy Weasley in the middle of the library about whether or not she should attend a callback.

"You've a beautiful voice!" Percy insisted, seeming utterly frustrated as his cheeks clashed terribly with his red hair. "Anyone who speaks with you for just a few moments can hear that for himself! As for your acting, you're a funny, charismatic girl with so much to offer people, and you don't even seem to realize it. And I fail to see how a girl as lithe as you can't be a good dancer, once we set you up with the choreographer. Aside from nerves and stage fright, there's absolutely no reason for you _not_ to try for this role."

"All right then," Hermione murmured, feeling embarrassed by how well Percy seemed to know her. As far as she knew, he hadn't even known her first name until he read it on the audition card the night before. "Then I won't go, and I'll cite nerves and stage fright. I fulfilled my requirement to my class by auditioning, and I can simply apply to be part of one of the crews. You _did_ offer to try and get me a stage management position, didn't you?"

Trying not to appear petulant about the whole thing, Percy took a moment to straighten out his already-flawless tie as he muttered, "I swear, you're the reason all the real talent is left out of the theatre, and I'm left watching a half-dazed Luna Lovegood strut about in a corset to the tune of 'Mein Herr.'"

"Did you _really_ think I was going to stuff myself in one of those unbearably tiny outfits?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest. The move only attracted Percy's eyes in that general direction, and he flushed again as he looked away.

"I just thought it would be good for you," he brought up sheepishly. "The way you sang last night… it made me want to clap my little brother on the back, to be perfectly honest. I'll never know how he managed to get a girl like you, but with a bit of confidence, you could have proven the bookish stereotype completely wrong."

"What?" Percy looked up at Hermione at her confused question. "Little brother? I can only assume you mean Ron, but what would he have to do with any of this?" _Get_ a girl like her? Just what on earth has Ron been telling his family?

"The two of you aren't…? You're not Ron's girlfriend?"

"Goodness, no!" Hermione exclaimed. "He and I would likely kill one another if we attempted a relationship. Besides, long distance things rarely work out, and I wouldn't destroy a friendship I've had for seven years just to try our hand at romance. Heaven knows how often I've failed spectacularly in that regard."

A small, rueful smile touched the corners of Percy's lips. "You too, eh?"

Hermione matched his smile with one of her own. "I suppose it's the ill luck of all us 'bookish types.'"

Pausing for a moment, Percy asked, "May I ask you a question, then?" At Hermione's permission, he queried, "Were you singing to anyone, then? Because I naturally thought you were thinking of Ron, but if you're not involved… it just seems as though you poured so much emotion into it."

"Well," Hermione murmured, "I was thinking of you." She widened her eyes as she realized how Percy took that, seeing his surprise (and was that-… was that a glint of excitement in his eyes?). "Th- that is… well, you were leaving the theatre, and I thought it was because you didn't want to hear me sing, that you thought I would be as bad as the others, so… I just wanted to prove to you that I _could_ sing, I suppose. Just a bit."

Now, in the brightly-lit library and far away from the foreboding, lonely theatre, that logic seemed shaky at best. It sounded as though she was only making excuses, and she wondered over the complacent way Percy smiled at her after that. Was he thinking that… that she _fancied_ him? Of course not; she'd once joked that she and Ron would have been an ideal couple if Ron was a bit more like Percy, with his studious habits and the like, but… surely he didn't think….?

"So, you won't be coming to tonight's callback?" Percy asked.

"Would you be upset with me if I go just to placate you but purposely do poorly?"

"Horribly upset," he answered, sounding for all the world perfectly serious. "I may never speak to you again."

Chuckling a little, Hermione murmured, "We wouldn't want that."

Percy's smile didn't go unnoticed by Hermione as he replied, "No, no we certainly wouldn't." Looking down at the callback sheet, he sighed deeply and remarked, "Well, it's a shame. If you don't show, then the most likely choice for Sally out of the two would be Lavender Brown, and she's almost as bad as Luna."

"Perhaps you're simply biased against blondes," Hermione teased.

Surprised by the tease but more than willing to reply to it, Percy brought up, "I find blondes perfectly acceptable, so long as they don't emphasize their… God-given assets to anyone who walks by or go through life with a vacant smile. If I had to listen to that Lavender Brown tell me about her horoscope one more time…."

Hermione laughed at that, and Percy's smile resurfaced. It looked to her almost as though he wanted to say something to her, but he thought better of it as he put his callback sheet back in his folder, and neatly returned the folder to his satchel. "Well, if you've made up your mind about it, then I suppose I'll just see if Professor Lockhart has room for a personal assistant or some such thing, though I warn you, it will consist mostly of holding up mirrors and helping him sort through 'fan mail' that he's written to himself."

She laughed again, and he smiled again, and he seemed to sigh before turning away. "I'll let you get back to your work then. I'll see you later, Hermione."

Realizing that this was the second time that Percy called her by her given name, she bit her lip. Surely she was imagining things, and just as surely, she had more important things to be doing. But that didn't stop her from eventually moving towards him and gently gripping his arm.

"Percy, wait."

* * *

A week later, Hermione decided to give Ron a call for the first time in almost two weeks.

"Oi, it's about bloody time," he snapped as soon as he picked up the phone, having apparently seen her name on the caller ID. "I know this 'best friends forever' thing is usually just a load of rot, but that's not supposed to be the case for people like us, you know. What kept you?"

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione said nervously. "I've been terribly busy."

"I know, I know; midterms and such, yeah?"

"Well… yes. And no."

"Come again?"

Taking a deep breath, Hermione explained, "Have you ever heard of a play called _Cabaret_?" When Ron replied that he hadn't, she told him, "Well, it's really quite a tasteless sort of show; little more than a burlesque with a thin plot surrounding it. Well, at any rate, I sort of got a bit part, so I've been busy with rehearsals."

"A bit part, eh?" Ron asked, suddenly intrigued. "In a 'tasteless sort of show?' What, they're not making you parade around in heavy make-up and your, y'know- … your unmentionables and such, are they?"

Wondering if Ron enjoyed playing dumb or if he often managed to strike upon lucky guesses, Hermione quickly replied, "No! No, it's nothing like that. It's, er, the other people in the play. I'm just playing an aspiring English actress named Sally living in Berlin during the second World War. It's nothing too terrible."

"Not if you've seen the kinds of 'aspiring English actresses' that used to frequent Whitechapel-"

"Oh, have you been reading those stupid Jack the Ripper mysteries again?" Hermione snapped. "Honestly, do a bit of reading for an actual history class, and color me impressed."

"This is uni," Ron brought up. "I'll bet you I'll find a class where all that stuff proves useful."

Hermione sighed heavily, already knowing that it was a bad idea to make this call when she still had studying to do. "Look, Ron, I… I have something to tell you." She could already hear the tense silence in the air, and she asked, "You _are_ still there, aren't you, or did you get your throat cut?"

"I thought you don't approve of that kinda humor?"

"I don't. But it's the only thing you respond to sometimes."

"Yeah, still here," he answered needlessly, in a worried voice. "What's up?"

"Well… Percy is the stage manager of the play I'm in."

"Is he giving you trouble? I'll sock him-"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." Sighing again, Hermione brought up, "Well, we're going to be seeing a lot of one another, and he's really the only other person not involved in the theatre department who'll be working on the show. So, we thought it best that we get to know one another. So… he sort of… took me out to dinner last night, and-… and we'll be going out to a movie tomorrow."

Ron was silent for so long that Hermione was just about to wonder if the call had dropped before his voice came through, hoarse and disbelieving. "You're dating my brother?"

"No! No, we've… been on things that could be construed as dates, and we're discovering that there is a possible mutual attraction that may lead to-"

"_You're dating my brother!_"

"Well, all right, yes, but we're trying not to look at it that way. It makes things awkward."

"Awkward?" Ron barked out incredulously. "Awkward is me not being able to look at you without wondering if you'd just come back from snogging that good for nothing-…. Jesus, Hermione, why do you always go for the prats?"

"Viktor wasn't a prat!"

"He was a prat, and Percy's a prat and a half!"

"Look Ron," Hermione said levelly. "I just… I thought you'd like to know. You're my best friend, and I love you, and I know this would probably seem weird. I'm not saying Percy and I are serious, but… do you think you could at least cope with the idea that we're getting on?"

She could almost picture the scowl on Ron's face as he muttered, "Yeah. Sure. He hurts you, though, and I'll sock him without question."

"You're the best bodyguard a girl could ask for," Hermione said wryly. "Please don't be angry with me, Ron."

"'m not angry," he grumbled. "Just wish you had better taste in blokes. Every time you get together with somebody, he ends up being no good for you. We _do_ remember Cormac McLaggen, yeah?"

Smiling, Hermione shrugged her shoulders even though she knew Ron couldn't see it over the phone. She didn't know where things were going with Percy, but she knew him, trusted him, and could at least count on not getting her heart broken.

"Maybe this time I'll be lucky."


End file.
